Towards the Light
by FoxInBox aka FIB
Summary: Bum goes still, looking around with amazement, like this is the first time he's ever seen the world and it is more beautiful than he had ever imagined. Still, there is fear on his face as his eyes search for a familiar face staring back at them through tinted glass. He slumps in relief (and maybe something else, something darker) when he does not see Sangwoo. A Stalking Killing Fic
1. Chapter 1

Seungbae finds the trapdoor in the closet, hastily buried under toppled boxes. He can hear Sangwoo screaming, angry and feral, and though his words are muffled by the walls as he is dragged from the house, the sound is almost enough to send shivers down his spine. It seems that the pleasant mask the man had worn when he answered the front door has finally been abandoned.

One of the other officers walks into the room, his face pale and sweat shining on his forehead. Seungbae knows that this man has never encountered a case like this before. None of the younger officers have, since the suburbs are usually quiet and uneventful.

The young man licks his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is scratchy. He sounds like he may be sick.

"He said...well, there is almost certainly someone else in this house," he announces.

Seungbae looks back to the trapdoor and the padlock catches his eye. He squares his shoulders and orders the man to bring him the bolt cutters, _immediately._ The man runs to follow his order, despite technically being his superior officer.

By the time he returns and shoves the tool into his hands, Seungbae's heart is hammering in his ears, too loud to hear anything anyone says to him. His hands shake as he holds the bolt cutters, and the _snap_ of the lock seems to echo all around him. He braces himself, and pulls the door up.

The thin shaft of light reveals stairs, leading down to a black basement. He raises a hand, gesturing for silence, and takes the first step into the darkness, giving his eyes a second to adjust to the change in lighting. He hears breathing, shaky and fast. It's the sound of someone trying to muffle their terror.

He isn't sure what to expect as he descends the stairs, weapon and flashlight held firmly in hand. He sweeps the bright light across the basement, taking in the cement walls, the bare pipes, and the dark stains. Despite the tension that is building in his chest, the beam of light never wavers.

He freezes as the light lands on a figure hunched in the corner. Even curled into a ball, shoulders trembling, eyes squeezed shut, and both hands covering his mouth, Seungbae can recognize the boy from the video. He feels his heart lurch and his stomach twist into knots. He raises a hand and motions to the officers behind him to stay back and stay ready. Approaching slowly, he kneels before the boy and does his best to appear nonthreatening.

"My name is Yang Seungbae. I'm a police officer," he says, softly. The boy flinches at the sound of his voice but Seungbae continues, keeping his voice gentle and calm despite the horror and fury that is slowly building inside his chest. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe now."

Slowly, a pair of dark eyes lifts to look at him. There are dark circles beneath them, like this boy hasn't had a good night's sleep in months. Bandages wrap around his neck, and there is blood dribbling from a scrape above one eye, the skin around it already beginning to show signs of bruising. It looks fresh, like his head has been slammed into a wall in the last few moments.

"He won't…" the boy begins, voice barely a whisper. Seungbae has to lean closer to hear him. "Sangwoo. He's going to…."

He trails off when Seungbae shakes his head. The boy stares at him, and there is a light slowly returning to his eyes, like he is only now beginning to grasp what the police being here – in this house, in this basement, right in front of him – might mean.

"Oh Sangwoo is in custody. You're safe," he says. He tries to recall what he had learned in the academy on how to calm victims, how to keep them grounded in reality. "Do you know your name?"

Tears well in those dark eyes. The boy nods slowly, his face still clouded with shock, like he can't quite bring himself to believe that any of this is real. Still, Seungbae likes to think he sees the beginnings of hope and relief shimmering in those eyes.

"Yoon Bum," he says, soft as a sigh. "My name is Yoon Bum."

Seungbae knows he should ask more questions; how old he is, if he knows how long he's been here, how this _happened._ But with Bum staring up at him with those shadowed, haunted eyes, in the oppressive darkness of this room, he can't bring himself to ask him to relive any of that. Not yet.

"Let's get you out of here," he says, trying to make the forced stretch of his lips resemble a gentle smile. "Can you walk?"

The boy bows his head, too-long hair falling to cover his eyes. He shakes his head slowly, looking ashamed as he shifts his position to reveal skirt-clad legs. He hears a quiet murmur behind him, the agitated buzzing of the watching officers, disgust and pity and horror all wrapped up in one.

It is not the skirt that makes rage boil up again in Seungbae's throat, but the bandages wrapped like frivolous decorations around bruised, misshapen legs.

That explains why he had been crawling, that day his attempted escape was caught on the black box in Sangwoo's car.

"Are you alright with me carrying you up the stairs?" he asks, tamping down his rage. Bum looks at him for a second, hesitating. His dark eyes move slowly over Seungbae's frame and then flicker towards the other officers waiting behind him. Then, almost fearfully, they focus on the light that is shining from the tiny trapdoor, a beacon through the darkness. He nods.

Carefully, like he is handling fine china, Seungbae gathers him up in his arms. He is all too aware of each flinch and cringe and of the sharp intake of breath, a gasp of pain that escapes Bum's lips despite how careful Seungbae is trying to be. He wonders what sorts of wounds are hidden under the clothes that drape too-big across the boy's small frame.

The handful of officers part as he passes by. Two follow close behind him as he starts up the stairs. The others spread out through the basement, flashlights searching. A light is found, and the bare bulb bursts into life, illuminating the space.

Seungbae pauses for only a second, glancing back with a sort of morbid curiosity that he can't seem to tamp down. He takes in the bloodstains that no amount of scrubbing or bleach could remove from the porous concrete, and the array of glinting metals that have been arranged neatly on shelves and in toolboxes against the far wall. A length of chains, manacles attached to the end, are coiled near a thin, dirty mattress. There is a pulley system rigged up in the center of the room, and he feels himself tremble as he sees the noose that hangs from it.

He wonders what Sangwoo was planning to do with the boy he now holds in his arms, who does not shake or cry as he looks down at the eerie display. Bum's dark eyes are tired and empty. He wonders how long, exactly, he was here. He wonders if he has been locked here since that day Seungbae had glimpsed him standing on the front porch.

His curiosity burns ( _What were you doing that day? Were you a captive even then? Why didn't I follow my instincts and stop you, stop Sangwoo, sooner?)_ but he does not speak. He just shuffles his hold to pull the boy tighter against his chest and continues up the stairs.

Bum blinks as they emerge into the light, but he does not look around. Seungbae isn't surprised that he is familiar with this room. He remembers seeing that bandaged foot in the doorway, and he knows that this boy has been in the bedroom, at the very least.

He has to hold back another burst of cold fury when he imagines why that might be, exactly.

As they enter into the hallway, heading resolutely towards the front door and out of this hellhole, the boy in his arms goes stiff. He walks faster.

"Wait," he hears, soft and uncertain. "Sangwoo—"

"Is not in the house," Seungbae interrupts, trying to sound soothing. The words come out just a little bit sharper than he had meant them to be, the anger that is directed everywhere _but_ the trembling form in his arms finding its way into his voice. He curses himself as the shaking gets worse, and he walks a little faster.

" _STOP_!"

Suddenly, Bum's fists are beating against his chest, desperate and strong despite his deceptively small frame. He twists and claws, pushing against Seungbae's chest so suddenly and so harshly that he loses his grip and the boy goes crashing to the ground.

"Shit, are you okay!?" His voice is shaking, horror at what he has done and confusion to why the boy is acting like this swirling through his head, making him almost nauseous.

Bum crawls across the floor, fast in a way that speaks of experience with moving like this. With the sun shining in from the open door, illuminating the sickly paleness of his skin and the starch contrast of his overgrown black hair, the blood and bruises marring his face, and his eyes like glittering black pits staring up from a form that is so twisted it barely seems human, the boy looks like something from a horror movie. He is a vengeful spirit, a wraith of a being that was once human and whole, a creature formed from the bad feelings that hang in the air of this farce of a home. He is the guilt and horror and fury that fills Seungbae's body given human form.

Bum is shaking, eyes wide and wild as he stares up at the officers that rushed to fill the hallway at the sound of a body hitting the hardwood floor. Seungbae moves slowly as he crouches once again in front of Bum, drawing his attention.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe now, remember?" he says, not yet daring to reach out and touch, uncertain if that kind of comfort is what is needed right now.

"The line."

The words are so soft, he almost doesn't hear them. He nods slightly, silent encouragement to continue. The boy takes a shaky, shallow breath. Seungbae can see his pulse as it thrums in his throat.

"I can't cross the line," he says, head turning in slow, jilting movements to look at the base of the stairs that are only steps away. "Sangwoo will...if I cross the line without his permission, he'll…."

He stops, breathing picking up. He hides his face in his knees, which are drawn up to his chest. The bandages are beginning to unwind from around his legs and feet, and the soft light of the sun illuminates the sickly hue of them, the bruises layered upon bruises, and the gut-churning jut of bone that has healed at an angle is should not have ever been at.

Seungbae feels the guilt well up, stronger than before. The _what if_ 's and _should have_ 's are dancing in his head as his mind conjures up every instance and moment that he could have done something differently, and of the ways he could have ended this boy's suffering so much sooner. How he could have possibly stopped it before it ever began.

He opens his mouth, hollow comfort on his lips and unspoken apologies bitter on his tongue, but Bum speaks first.

"I know," he gasps between shallow breaths, voice muffled. "I know that he's not here, I know that it's not real."

"You're safe," Seungbae repeats, like if he says it enough, he might be believed. Bum nods, black hair catching on the rough, threadbare fabric of the skirt he wears.

"Just give me a minute," he says.

His breaths are gradually growing slower, steadier. His shaking does not stop, but it abates, if only slightly. Minutes pass and the people that had come pouring into the hallways begin to trickle out, their gazes trained on the two shadowed figures crouched on the floor of the bright hallway until they disappear from their line of sight.

Seungbae is well aware of his own flaws. He knows that he is dangerously impulsive and stubborn to a fault, and that he trusts his instincts over his mind too often. But...well, those exact traits are the only reason he is sitting here now, in front of this terrified and hurt boy who is about to take his first moves towards true freedom in who-knows how long. He can afford to be patient and kind in this moment, for this person who has been suffering for so long.

So he sits quietly, listening as the labored breathing evens out and watching as the terrified trembling finally stops altogether. Another moment passes, no one daring to break the silence that has fallen. Then, with a deep breath, dark eyes raise to meet Seungbae's own, holding his gaze. They are different than the bewildered, scared ones he had seen before. Though the terror still lurks beneath, dark and uncertain, there is determination shining in them.

"I want to walk across the line," he says, and his voice has become so much more than a whisper.

Seungbae hesitates, not looking down at Bum's mangled legs only because those dark eyes won't relinquish their hold on him. He finds himself unable to say no, the simple words catching in his throat under that shining gaze. So he nods and stands, leaning down to help Bum to his feet. None of the observing officers move to stop them, too captivated by this moment, or perhaps understanding how important it is.

Bum winces, teeth gritting at the pain of putting any weight on his legs, but he takes a shaky step forward. The choked noise of someone biting back sobs makes Seungbae wince, but he does not stop the boy; somehow, he can feel just how badly he needs to do this. It is an act of defiance as much as it is of _freedom,_ and Seungbae cannot take that away from him.

He moves behind him, though, hands outstretched and ready to catch at the first sign of a fall. He can see the way Bum's ankles turn inwards at awkward, unnatural angles, and the way his legs are trembling from the weight of his own tiny frame.

He stops just before the invisible line, hands pressed tight against the wall, nails digging into the plaster. He is leaning against it to take some of the weight from his legs. Seungbae stops, too, waiting to see what he will do. The light frames him, turning him into sharp shadows and gentle outlines.

In that instance, Seungbae can understand what people mean when they speak of the duality of mankind. The boy standing at the foot of the stairs, outlined in light, is soft and harsh, contrasting colors, unwavering bravery and blind terror all rolled into one.

Bum's shoulders shake as he takes a deep breath, and his shadow is stretched long and distorted, covering Seungbae and devouring him whole. He can feel his own breath catch as Bum inches further forward, bare toes barely brushing the invisible line. His heart is in his throat as the line is crossed, and there is suddenly no wall left to offer support.

A second passes, the earth standing still and waiting for _something_ that Seungbae does not think he will ever be able to properly name. His own hands are shaking ever-so-slightly, barely-there tremors that would make it impossible for him to hold his gun. Watching this boy step towards the light fills him with a kind of anxiety that he has never felt before, even when facing down danger.

Then, Bum turns back to look at him. There are tears spilling down his cheeks, sparkling in the golden sunlight. The blood is drying on his face. His smile is the brightest thing that Seungbae has ever seen.

The tension drains from him in an instant. His shoulders relax, and he smiles back, honest and true. The boy's lips part, and Seungbae has the feeling that he is going to say something that would change everything. He waits, breath caught in his throat, eyes wide.

Bum collapses before he can make a single sound, and Seungbae rushes forward to support him. His arm is tight around the boy's waist, pressing him against his side. He can count the rib that press like knives into his side.

"Come on," he murmurs, moving carefully forward, supporting almost all of the boy's meager weight. There are still tears streaming from those dark eyes, but the smile is still stretched wide across his lips. He looks more alive than anyone Seungbae has ever seen, more alive than the face that stares back at him from the mirror every day. "Let's get you out of here."

The boy nods, eager. They pass through the doorway into the fresh, open air. There are squad cars parked in front of the house and down the block. Bum goes still, looking around with open-faced amazement, like this is the first time he's ever seen the world and it is more beautiful than he had ever imagined. Still, there is fear on his face as his eyes flicker across the squad cars, searching for a familiar face staring back at them through tinted glass.

He slumps in relief (and maybe something else, something _darker)_ when he does not see Sangwoo. There is a beat of silence. Then a sniffle. Then the boy is sobbing, loud and unabashedly, his face turned to the blue sky as he wails.

Seungbae lowers him so he can sit on the porch, and he rests beside him, legs barely brushing in a reminder that he is not alone.

That he is safe, at last.

* * *

 **Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at a Stalking Killing fic. I got really into it three days ago, read all the translated chapters in one go, and then busted this baby out in one night with a little bit of editing today before posting. As such, if there are any errors or mistakes, feel free to let me know! I couldn't find a Killing Stalking listing to put it under, so if there is one, let me know.**

 **Now, a few notes. In this fic, Bum is referred to (at least mentally) as "the boy." I know he's a grown man, but if you take into account what little experience Seungbae has with him, he does look rather child-like. He's small, if the size comparisons between him and Sangwoo are accurate and not just stylistic choices by the author. Plus, in the video that Seungbae saw, Sangwoo picked him up and carried him like one would a child, as well. So I feel like that's going to have some sort of subconscious effect on how he views Bum.**

 **Second, I'll be the first to say that I have no knowledge of how things like this would be handled in the real world. All I know is what I pick up from crime shows, so if you do have any real-world knowledge of these sorts of things, please feel free to lay 'em on me.**

 **Last of all, have no idea if I want to continue this or leave it as a one-shot. I love to explore how main character are viewed by outsiders, so if anyone wants to see more or if I just get inspiration to write more, the "complete" status might change.**

 **Thank you for reading, and if you want to leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Even sitting in an interrogation room with his hands chained to the metal table in front of him, Oh Sangwoo does not look like a monster.

He smiles cheerfully at the officer who reads him his rights, and waves them off, saying he does not need a lawyer just yet. He makes small talk, casual and unconcerned. He is charming, and Seungbae grudgingly admits that he can see how he could have fooled so many people into believing that he is nothing more than a harmless college student.

If not for the mounting evidence they have against him – and if not for Bum – Seungbae has no doubt that Sangwoo would be able to charm any jury he might face into a not guilty verdict. It's a frightening thought, how easily he wears the skin of a human. Seungbae has seen the monster beneath, though, and he will not let that easy smile fool him.

He watches from behind the one-way mirror for a while. He takes in the casual tilt of Sangwoo's head as he speaks, and the way he rolls his shoulders or shifts in his chair. He notes the way the man's fingers twitch and curl into white-knuckled fists whenever the officer says something he doesn't like. It all looks so natural.

Each shrug, each nod, each careful smile—it's all choreographed into a flawless mimicry of a cheerful, easygoing young man. Seungbae wonders if this creature has always been so good at playing pretend, or if it is a skill that was acquired later in life. He wonders if he has always been so empty, or if that came later, as well.

It soon becomes apparent that the officers of this small suburb have no idea what to do with a monster like Sangwoo. He watches the officer flounder, ask the wrong questions, and finally back down just to puff himself back up and blunder on. After fifteen minutes pass with no real progress made, Seungbae decides he wants to speak with Sangwoo personally.

He keeps his shoulders square and his chin raised as he marches into the room, casual and confident. There is a file held loosely at his side. The legs of the metal chair make an awful noise as they're dragged across the concrete floor. Sangwoo does not react at first, watching Seungbae curiously as he sits himself down across from him, resting the file across his lap, hidden by the table.

A slow smile crawls across Sangwoo's face, and it never reaches his eyes. They remain dark and empty. The chains around his wrists clack together as he leans forward, never breaking eye contact with Seungbae.

"It's you again," he says, almost cheerfully. "I feel like perhaps I should file a report for stalking at this point. Is that what is happening, Officer Yang?"

"I found Yoon Bum," is all he says. He watches the smile on the other man's face flicker, then reappear, brighter than before.

"Is this harassment?" Sangwoo asks, his voice low. He sounds amused, but the lines around his mouth are tight. There's a hollow and eerie sort of tone to his voice, like something has shortwired in his chameleon personality and the emotions don't blend quite as easily anymore.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Seungbae responds, pasting his own easy smile on.

"We've met each other quite a few times, now. You've been to my house. And now you're using your position to have me arrested. Is this some kind of a joke?"

Sangwoo sounds so confident in his assessment, just the right amount of befuddlement in his tone. He is playing the role of the easygoing college student flawlessly once again. It seems that whatever emotions Seungbae's words had inspired, he has adjusted himself to already.

It's a shame that his mask slides so flawlessly back into place. Getting him to slip up would be so much easier if it didn't.

"Kidnapping charges are no joke, Oh Sangwoo," he says, meeting Sangwoo's unblinking, empty eyes. He repeats, a little harsher, "Yoon Bum has been freed."

For the first time, something worried and uncertain flickers across those carefully controlled features. Then, fury overtakes them, ugly and feral. It is there and gone so quickly that, if he were speaking with anyone else, Seungbae would have thought he had imagined it. This is Oh Sangwoo, though, and he has no doubt that that feral fury is what the creature beneath the mask of pleasant emotions truly feels.

"Have there been any charges pressed?" Sangwoo asks, his eyes narrow, his smile twisted.

Seungbae doesn't answer. He carefully chooses which emotions to show, averting his eyes and pursing his lips. After a moment of heavy silence, Sangwoo's smile twists more. There is something like contentment in his expression, and it is enough to make Seungbae's insides twist.

Again, Seungbae finds himself drowning in the guilt. How many times has Bum seen the true face of the monster sitting shackled before him? How often did he suffer the wrath of that ugly, all-consuming animal?

The monster before him leans back, languid and unworried. He has taken Seungbae's stubborn silence as confirmation that Bum has not pressed charges, that he's keeping his mouth shut and whatever torture and mind games Sangwoo spent so much time inflicting upon him have worked.

The reality is much simpler.

Yoon Bum is at the hospital, a cocktail of antibiotics and pain relievers and tests keeping him far too busy or far too out of it to file an official report just yet. Seungbae is almost glad of it; Bum deserves to escape his pain, even if it's only long enough for the first series of surgeries to be done.

He does not tell Sangwoo the truth, of course. He will let him dig his own grave. The bastard is cocky enough to do so, but smart enough that he may recognize that he now holds a shovel instead of a knife in his hands.

"Is Bum what all this fuss is about?" Sangwoo asks, all but purring. His eyes have gone half-lidded, his smile lazy and sly. "If that's the case, then there have been some misunderstandings, officer."

"I don't think that finding a man locked in the basement lends the chance for many misunderstandings," Seungbae says dryly.

"Haven't you ever heard of role playing, officer?" he asks, and the expression on his face has become what Seungbae can only describe as sultry. "Bum has some fucked up fantasies. Even I can't keep up with them, sometimes."

"Fantasies," Seungbae repeats. Sangwoo nods, that sly and twisted smile still on his face. His teeth are straight and white, uniformly perfect.

"Didn't you know? Bum and I are lovers."

Something on Seungbae's face must have betrayed his disgust, his incredulity to that statement. Sangwoo laughs, the sound bright and well practiced. He leans across the table again, folding his hands in front of him like they're discussing business instead of criminal activities. He smiles like they are old friends, playing a friendly game of cards. Who has the better poker face, he wonders?

"Could that perhaps be why you're targeting us, officer? You may not like it, but it _is_ legal, last I checked."

Seungbae does not bother dignifying his needling words with a response. He leans forward as well, his eyes narrowed and his lips curling in disgust as he looks into Sangwoo's carefully constructed mask.

"How would you explain the broken legs, then?"

"Oh, that? Bum broke into my home, before we really got the chance to know each other. That was just self defense. When I offered to drive him to the hospital afterwards, he was so worried I might get in trouble, he decided he'd rather not go." Sangwoo looks almost tender as he speaks of the man he had kidnapped and tortured for so long. "Bum can be so soft hearted sometimes, it's almost hard to believe."

"It is hard to believe," Seungbae says, his gaze never wavering from Sangwoo's face. He studies each minute expression, morbidly curious about the man who has given him a bad feeling since the first time they met, but who seems to have managed to charm everyone else. Sangwoo stares unblinkingly back.

After a second, he decides that it's the eyes that give Sangwoo away for what he truly is. The cold glint in what should be a warm gaze is what raises alarms in his mind. Seungbae trusts his instincts more than most, which is perhaps why he can see the creature before him for what he truly is while others struggle to connect the horrors in that basement to the man with such a charming smile.

Sangwoo cocks his head to the side. There is something almost animalistic in the movement. His smile is empty, nothing more than a stretch of flesh over bone-white teeth. His fingers twitch, curling into white-knuckled fists again. Seungbae has said something to anger him, or perhaps worry him. He adjusts his glasses and returns the smile.

Seungbae had been caught off guard, that first time at Sangwoo's house. He had been almost frantic with his worry and his suspicions. He had been playing on the monster's turf, and seeing that basement, Seungbae knows that he only barely missed a horrific fate.

His own bumbling had cost Bum more pain, he has no doubt. Here and now, though, they are playing by different rules. Seungbae has the upper hand and he holds cards that Sangwoo does not even know exist.

Each dismissive word, each smile, each failure to rise to the bait that Sangwoo is dangling—they all work together to get under the monster's skin, irritating him and slowly driving him further from his game, upsetting his footing.

"He didn't leave the house willingly, did he?" Sangwoo asks, his smile crooked and fake.

"He had to be escorted from the house," Seungbae answers, deliberately vague. Sangwoo hums but doesn't say anything more, as though that alone should be enough to prove his point. There is something like victory in the satisfied curl of his lips.

Looking into those dark eyes, examining that smug expression, Seungbae decides that he has had enough of this game. He isn't interested in playing along anymore.

He smiles back, mirroring each line of that smirk before him, right down to the satisfaction that gleams in cold eyes. He sees Sangwoo's eyes narrow and his jaw tighten as he realizes that something has shifted. There is a sense of vindictive satisfaction that fills Seungbae at the wary way Sangwoo is suddenly looking at him.

"Even if there are no formal kidnapping charges against you yet, there are still the murder charges to consider."

Sangwoo's face twists. Seungbae's smile grows.

"Did you really think that Lee Kyung-Hee would disappear without anyone searching for her? Her mother is a very important CEO, Oh Sangwoo. Her absence was noticed almost immediately."

Seungbae watches the growing fury on the monster's face, fully exposed now. The mask has been abandoned, cast aside as the noose tightens around his neck. There is something desperate and mad alongside that fury, and Seungbae feels a chill climb his spine. He ignores it in favor of the thrill of victory, and of knowing that he has him backed into an inescapable corner.

The hunter has, at last, become the hunted.

"You were very careful, of course," he continues, his tone light and musing. He pulls the file from where it had been resting in his lap and lays it, unopened, on top of the table. It blocks the gleam of metal, swallowing the light like a black hole.

"What is that?" Sangwoo asks through gritted teeth. Seungbae watches a nerve in his jaw twitch. His long fingers are curling and uncurling like he wants to wrap his hands around Seungbae's throat and squeeze.

The smile on his face grows a little wider as he flips the file open. Inside is a plethora of photos, but the one on top, the only one visible, clearly shows Sangwoo and Kyung-Hee walking together down a scarcely populated sidewalk. Sangwoo goes very still, his eyes trained on it.

"I knew her," he says immediately, his voice hollow and his shoulders tense.

Seungbae can practically see the desperation, the struggle to form a believable story, as Sangwoo chases ideas and words about his head. The mask is back when he looks up at Seungbae, though it is fragmented. He can see the fissures, and how just a little push will be enough to shatter it.

Sangwoo says, "We slept together, but I have nothing to do with her disappearance. From what I knew of her, she was pretty flighty. You sure she didn't just go home with some other random guy or hop on a plane to America for a good time?"

His voice is the right amount of concerned disinterest. It is the tone that Seungbae has heard a thousand times before, when people learned that someone they knew had died, but they hadn't been close enough to them to really care. It's actually quite impressive, how well Sangwoo can fake these sorts of things.

His eyes still give him away, though. They are still cold with disgust for the dead girl and wild with the threat of being caught hanging so close over his head. It makes for an interesting contrast.

"We both know that that's not what happened, though," Seungbae says.

"It's circumstantial at best!" Sangwoo spits, and the chains around his wrists rattle as he shifts.

"Perhaps it is circumstantial," Seungbae hums.

Then, he reaches out to spread the contents of the file across the table.

There are dozens of pictures, taken from social media and security footage, almost all showing the same thing; Sangwoo, again and again and again, and the smiling faces of young women who had all been reported missing.

Sangwoo's face goes pale as Seungbae says, "But these aren't. I wonder how many of the blood stains in your basement will match the dna samples taken from these women."

Silence follows the words. Sangwoo's face is pale, his expression empty as his eyes flicker from one picture to the next. His eyes linger on only one face, the only male victim in a sea of young women.

With a roar that seems to echo through the small space, Sangwoo lunges across the table, his hands outstretched to grab Seungbae. It is only the shock from the sudden attack that ensures that he does not startle back. He is so frozen by a sudden, primal fear, that he cannot even flinch.

The only reason Sangwoo's hands do not wrap around his throat, that his teeth do not sink into tender, exposed flesh, are the shackles around his wrists. They keep him secured to one spot, straining uselessly against the metal until his skin is red and will surely bruise. The sight makes Seungbae smile.

He leans forward slightly, meeting those enraged eyes. Sangwoo snarls, curses and threats spilling from his lips along with the sounds of near-feral rage, but such things do not bother Seungbae. His voice is low, so only Sangwoo can hear him.

"How does it feel to be shackled, knowing that your life is held in the palm of someone else's hands, Oh Sangwoo?" Unsurprisingly, there is no answer. He leans back. "Well, I suppose you're just getting a taste of your victims' feelings. Maybe you'll understand better, later."

He gathers the pictures back together and shuts the file. It makes an unimpressive little _whump_ as it closes, and Seungbae thinks it's a shame that the pain of all those people cannot be heard screaming from within the thin paper walls. Then again, perhaps the only one it would hurt would be himself. He doubts Sangwoo cares about anyone's pain but his own.

He stands to go, brushing nonexistent dust from his pant legs. His footsteps do not make a sound as he crosses the room and waits for the door to be buzzed open to allow him to escape.

"I'll get him back, you know."

Seungbae turns to look back at the beast sitting, suddenly still again, at the metal table. He knows where those words will lead, and he silently wishes that the door would open faster. He can feel sweat as it trickles down his spine and gathers on his forehead.

Sangwoo smiles at him. It is a twisted and ugly thing, showing perfect teeth that he feels should be covered in blood. He leans forward, eyes dark and hungry as they gaze, unwavering, into Seungbae's every shame, his very soul.

"You were too late to save him, _Officer Yung._ Bum is _mine,_ and the scars on him will never heal. Every time he looks in the mirror and every time he has to _crawl_ like the _fucking worm_ he is, he'll know it. And he'll know that it's _all your fault._ You had the video from my black box, and you saw him that day, didn't you? Yet Bum wasn't important enough to warrant any investigation beyond that of one nosey officer. Even then, it looks like you didn't care enough to fight harder to save him. I'll be sure to tell him that, next time I see him."

Sangwoo's smile is like a knife. Seungbae can feel as each word drives deeper into his heart, twisting and growing cold as the guilt and disgust rise to devour him. It is all true, isn't it? He looked away as, at last, the door is opened.

He wraps his hand around the handle, and his sweat-slick palm slid against the cool metal. He swallows hard, mind racing and tumultuous emotions swirling in his chest, filling him with ugly, awful thought he hadn't known he was capable of. He pauses, halfway out the door.

Seungbae smiles as he looks back, and though it is strained, he sees the way it catches Sangwoo off guard.

"Bum walked across the line by himself," he says, and satisfaction curls in his chest at the expression that crosses Sangwoo's face. "And we're reopening your parents' case."

With that, he slams the door.

He can hear Sangwoo's howls of fury all the way down the hall, and satisfaction curls inside his chest.

* * *

 **Well, it seems like I decided to do a second chapter after all. Who'd'a thunk, right? Anyways, I sort of figure that the fact that Sangwoo made a point of saying that the girl Bum found in the basement was the daughter of a CEO was pretty interesting. And there's no way someone like that could just die/go missing without anything being done about it. So, hello, plot device. I hope that anyone who's reading this likes it!**

 **Have a great night!**


	3. Chapter 3

The hospital bed is empty when Seungbae goes to visit.

There is a second of welling panic in his gut, worry curling in his chest and rising to fill his throat. All he can hear are those words, " _I'll get him back, you know,"_ echoing in his mind over and over again. He knows that it is not possible, that Oh Sangwoo is locked in a cell that he will not be leaving anytime soon, but the panic is still _there_ and a shout is forming on his lips, ready to call the nurses over, demand to know what has happened, because _Yoon Bum is not in his room._

Then he hears a quiet thump and a soft sound of irritation. He freezes in the doorway, shout catching in his throat. Turning back to the room he sees a deathly pale hand appear from the far side of the bed, clutching at the sheets. A head of dark hair follows and he watches, shocked into silence for a brief second, as Bum struggles to pull himself back into his bed.

"Bum?" he asks, and the man freezes, eyes wide and scared as he stares right back at him, apparently just now realizing that he is not alone. Seungbae hesitates, feeling uncertain and a little awkward. "Did you...fall off the bed? Do you need help?"

Bum looks away, his face flushing red. He shakes his head and immediately grabs another fistful of sheet and continues his struggle. He does not make a sound.

Seungbae moves forward, hovering awkwardly as he tries to figure out if he should offer assistance again or perhaps just help him back into the bed without asking. His hand twitches at his side, but he does not reach out. It seems far too invasive to force the issue, given what Bum must have suffered through already.

While Seungbae is busy debating, Bum manages to pull himself onto the bed. He is sweating slightly from the effort, skin shining in the harsh florescent lights. It makes him look even more sickly. There is another beat of awkward silence as he settles himself more comfortably.

"What can I help you with, officer?" he asks, slightly breathless, not looking at the man still standing by his bedside.

His hands are in his lap, twisting the thin material of his hospital gown around and around. Seungbae stares at his hands and at his thin, fragile wrists. There are ligature marks covering them, bruises and scabs that will likely scar. Sangwoo's words seem to echo through his head once again, and he wonders how Bum feels, knowing that Sangwoo's marks will remain long after his tormentor is gone.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, he simply says, "You can call me Seungbae, if you'd like."

Bum looks up at him at last, his eyes wide and expression one of shock. When the offer is not retracted, a shy smile breaks across his face. He nods and repeats the name like he is tasting it. Seungbae keeps his expression carefully neutral, not quite certain what to make of the way Bum's lips curl around his name or the strange smile on his gaunt face.

"What can I do for you, _Seungbae_?" he asks again.

"I'm here to ask you a few questions, and to take your statement."

Bum does not respond. Seungbae cannot help but think that he seems more human here, where the horrors are not lurking just beyond each corner ( _just beyond those stairs_ ) but are instead confined to the past and to the mind. The dark circles beneath his eyes are far more pronounced, but his skin has regained some semblance of a healthy pallor. The sunshine that spills across his face helps, Seungbae thinks.

Bum shifts uncomfortably, and Seungbae's eyes are drawn to the heavy casts encasing his legs. They are a deep green color. He wonders if Bum chose that color, or if the hospital did. It seems to suit him, either way.

He clears his throat and looks back towards Bum's face. The other man is watching him warily, dark eyes intense and a little scared. It makes Seungbae feel like dirt, though he's not entirely sure what he did to inspire such an expression.

"I'm glad to see that they are working to mend your legs," he says, the words awkward and heavy on his tongue, and instantly curses himself at the strange expression that flashes across Bum's face. He seems so uncertain suddenly, looking slowly between Seungbae and the casts. Seungbae isn't sure what he said wrong, but he is feeling more and more out of his league with each passing moment.

Even in Seoul, his experience with hostage situations and his interaction with the victims themselves were few and far between. Somehow, though, he has been the one assigned to this case. He's not sure why they chose him instead of an actual psychiatrist, and hadn't been sure whether to be flattered or annoyed when he had received his assignment, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. After all, he has been entangled in this case for months now, whether he had known it or not. Something feels right about seeing it through to the end.

"Thank you," Bum says at last. "The doctors told me it will take a while before I'm fully recovered, but they're hoping for the best."

Seungbae nods but does not say anything. His face is kept in a carefully neutral mask. He already knows that Bum is downplaying the situation; one of the nurses at the front desk had debriefed him on the other man's status when he had first arrived. It would take countless months – perhaps even years – of intensive physical therapy and more surgeries than could be guessed at before Bum's legs would be anything resembling usable again. Even then, the likelihood that they would ever be fully functional or free of pain was slim.

He wonders if Bum doesn't know that yet. He wonders if he should be the one to tell him or if he should mention something to a nurse as he is leaving. Is it more kind to leave Bum in the darkness in this instance?

His lips part, trembling slightly as he tries and fails to find the words. Bum meets his eyes and smiles, soft and infinitely sad. He looks resigned, and Seungbae realizes that he _does_ know the truth. He shuts his mouth and looks away, suddenly ashamed.

They sit in silence for a long moment while Seungbae tries desperately to figure out how to mend the awkward tension that hangs between them. Or maybe he's just imagining it, considering the fact that Bum seems no more uncertain now than he has before. Perhaps living with a killer for so long had something to do with that. Surely, that would skew one's perception. After all, what was so scary about an awkward police officer after surviving such an ordeal?

The guilt roars to life, again. It seems to rest heavy upon his shoulders, weighing him down. The silence is stifling.

"You, uh, said that you had some questions for me, right?"

At the sound of those quiet words, Seungbae blinks, dragging his eyes back to Bum. His small hands are trembling, and Seungbae can make out the blue veins running beneath fragile skin. He looks so uncertain and scared that Seungbae briefly considers just walking away. He can come back another day, after Bum has a little more time to recover and he himself has more time to get his thoughts straight. His fingers twitch, and he bites his lip.

He knows he can't just leave, but it is a tempting thought.

He nods and forces a smile that he hopes looks real. He pulls out his notepad and pen, which have only seen use to take statements from old drunks and irate owners of newly-totaled cars, and sets them aside for the time being. Instead, he pulls a chair up to the bed and sits down so that they are at the same level.

It hurts to see how surprised and suspicious Bum seems to be by such simple actions. His eyes track Seungbae and he shrinks away slightly as he settles into the chair beside him.

"You're safe now," he reminds, soft and soothing. Bum still startles at the words, looking vaguely shocked, like he hadn't realized how easy it is to read his fear as it flashes across his features. "No one here is going to hurt you."

Bum's dark eyes are wide and unblinking as they watch Seungbae, and he holds perfectly still while Bum sorts through his thoughts and emotions. He smiles at him, more gentle and more sincere than before. Slowly, Bum relaxes. He seems to want to copy the expression, though what he manages is a strained and painful looking twist of lips instead of an actual smile. Seungbae still appreciates the effort and all that it it conveys.

"How are you doing, Bum?" he asks, the notepad still lying unopened in his lap.

Again, it seems that he has caught him by surprise. Bum hesitates, his mouth open and half-formed responses dying in tiny croaks as they catch in his throat. Seungbae waits patiently, keeping his expression pleasant, though he is already itching to go to the cell they are holding Sangwoo in and beat him, a hit for every flicker of doubt and fear in Bum's eyes. He has no doubt that this hesitance, this desperate search for the right response that will not get him killed, has everything to do with Sangwoo.

"I'm...adjusting," Bum finally manages, not meeting Seungbae's eyes.

"I'm glad to hear that. I was worried about you."  
Bum's gaze snaps back to him again. He seems to cycle through too many emotions at once, suspicion and wariness and uncertainty flashing across his face. Finally, something like wonder, soft and vulnerable, settles on his features. He wets his lips.

"You were worried...for me?" he asks, brow creased as though this is a concept he just cannot wrap his head around.

Seungbae nods, smiling gently despite the way his stomach twists at this sad shell of a man before him, more damaged than anyone else he thinks he has ever met. Bum's eyes fill with tears and he quickly looks away, blinking fast.

Seungbae gets a glimpse of scar tissue beneath his chin, scraping dangerously close to vital arteries. It is still pink and raised and ugly. Another mark left by Sangwoo, he is certain, and he is glad that Bum is not looking at him anymore, because he knows that the expression that crosses his face at the thought is murderous and he does not want Bum to think that any of his anger is directed anywhere but the horrific monster that has done this to him.

They sit in silence for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts. Surprisingly enough, it is Bum that breaks it.

"How long was I there?" he asks. His eyes are locked on the window of his little hospital room, and the sunlight that penetrates the room seems to be absorbed by his black eyes.

"Do you know what date you were taken captive?" Seungbae asks, fingering his pen.

Bum shakes his head, then turns to look at Seungbae. His expression is distant, thoughtful.

"It was you who saw me on his front porch, wasn't it?"

Hesitantly, Seungbae nods. He can almost hear the accusations that must be racing through Bum's mind, the horror and disgust he must feel. Seungbae is intimate with those same thoughts, after all, lying awake at night and wondering if Bum can ever forgive him for not following his instincts and stopping him then and there, and for taking so long to get him out of that hell even after he had _seen_ him.

"Then I guess that was the date," Bum murmurs. He smiles again, and it is a hollow expression that does not reach his eyes.

"I don't recall the exact date," Seungbae admits. "But I would estimate that it's been a little over six months."

Bum's eyes go wide. He swallows a few times, adams apple bobbing and his pulse visibly fluttering in his throat. He mouth opens, but no words come out.

"Bum?" Seungbae asks, wary. He wonders if her shouldn't have said anything at all. "Hey, Bum, are you still with me?"

He reaches out and gently touches Bum's arm. Bum stiffens, flinching away, and Seungbae quickly removes his hand. He watches Bum take a few deep breaths, wrapping his arms around his shaking frame like he is trying to hold himself together. The steady ticking of the clock is the only sound.

"I was there longer than I thought," he whispers after a long moment. His voice is soft, scratchy. He sounds hurt. Seungbae nods and waits for him to continue, but no more words come.

"Is there someone you want me to call for you, Bum?" he asks, flipping open his notepad at last.

Bum doesn't say anything. He just keeps staring, like he's afraid that if he blinks he will find himself back in that basement. Seungbae sighs. "What were you doing at the house that day? Can you walk me through what happened?"

Bum hesitates, chewing his lip until it bleeds. His tongue darts out to catch the welling red drop before Seungbae can move to offer him a tissue.

"I-I broke into his house," he whispers at last. Seungbae says nothing; he had already figured that much out for himself. "I was exploring, and I heard a sound coming from his closet. I followed it and found the entrance to the basement. It was closed, but I...I looked down there anyways."

Seungbae jots a few sentences down, but he has a good idea where, exactly, this tale is going. He already know how Bum's time in that house ends, but he can still feel the trepidation building in his stomach as he waits to hear more.

"There was a girl down there. She begged me not to kill her. I tried to untie her, but Sangwoo found me before I could. I don't know how he knew I was there, he just said something about how he hadn't seen any family in a long...time…."

Bum trails off, his dark eyes going wide and glassy again. Seungbae knows what it is that he has realized. He can't bring himself to meet Bum's gaze, and instead bows his head low.

" _Oh_ ," Bum breathes. His voice is so small, Seungbae can hardly hear him over the sound of his own breathing.

"I'm sorry," is all he says.

"It's fine," Bum replies after a second. He sounds tired. His voice is still barely audible. "I shouldn't have been there in the first place."

Seungbae frowns, lifting his head to meet Bum's sad eyes again. There's something resigned in that gaze, and frustration not directed at Seungbae, but instead inwards, at _himself._

"Hey," he says, reaching out again with slow, obvious movements to carefully rest his hand on top of Bum's. This time, Bum does not flinch away. He just stares with those dark eyes, full of shock and uncertainty. "Nothing that Sangwoo did to you or anyone else is your fault. You know that, don't you?"

There is another pause, silence stretching on and on. Seungbae can feel Bum's fingers twitch, the fine tremor in his small hand turning to actual shaking. It feels like it might just be enough to rattle his bones. He listens to Bum's breaths hitch, and wonders if he should take his hand back.

"I thought I was going to die," Bum whispers at last, shattering the silence. Tears are welling in his eyes, catching on his lashes and refusing to fall. "But he could also...there were times…." He pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. "He could be so _kind_. More kind than someone like me ever deserved."

It is like a punch to the gut, to hear those words, that brokenness in Bum's voice mixed with a distant sort of amazement. On impulse, Seungbae reaches out and clasps Bum's hands with both his own, holding tight. He can feel Bum's bones, tiny and frail and as easily shattered as a bird's fragile wings.

He knows that Bum knows it, too; is intimately familiar with just how easily he can be broken.

His eyes are wide, darting between their linked hands and Seungbae's serious expression. His thin shoulders are stiff, his lip trembling as the tears finally spill over. Even with the terror in his expression, the certainty that he will be hurt, Bum does not try to pull his hand back.

So Seungbae does not let go. He meets Bum's eye and holds his gaze. He watches as Bum slowly begins to realize that this grip will not bring pain, that there is no anger in Seungbae's eyes and no intention to hurt him.

"You survived, Bum," he says, staring into those dark eyes. Bum looks so horribly tired. "You survived, and Oh Sangwoo cannot hurt you anymore."

Bum's lips tremble. His eyes are enormous, and Seungbae watches the tears as they spill over and make their way down the man's pale cheek. He watches as a tear traces over several scars that he had not noticed before, careful white lines that look so lovingly laid over the delicate skin of Bum's face.

"I lived," Bum whispers. His voice shakes, cracks, and suddenly he's sobbing, his entire body curling inwards. He rips his hands away, only to use them to cover his face, like his tears are something to be ashamed of. He looks so alone, so broken, that Seungbae cannot help but reach out.

He rests his hand against Bum's arm and repeats, "You lived."

Before he can withdraw the gentle touch, Bum twists. The hospital sheets bunch around his small frame, catching at his damaged legs like grasping hands, and suddenly Seungbae finds himself with an armful of sobbing man.

He freezes, shocked. He can feel his heart thumping and the blood rushing in his ears. Bum is sobbing into his chest, form twisted awkwardly and boney fingers digging into Seungbae's back, just below his shoulder blades. His mind is racing, trying to catch up, to go over protocol and rules of fraternization and a thousand other technicalities.

He can't seem to recall any of them, over the sound of rushing blood and broken sobbing.

He raises his hands and tentatively wraps Bum in a hug. The man feels insubstantial beneath his grasp, something ethereal, like he may disappear any moment. His voice is hoarse in Seungbae's ear, barely even a whisper.

" _I'm alive."_

With those words, Seungbae knows that Bum might just be the strongest man he knows.

* * *

 **Welcome to another chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, and favorited this work. It makes my day 1,000% better whenever I see those notifications.**

 **Just so you know, this might be the last chapter, unless some crazy inspiration comes along. If there's anything you want to see happen, feel free to drop a comment or send me a PM. Your thoughts might just be the burst of inspiration I need to continue this fic!**

 **Thank you again for reading!**


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